


The Full Benefit of Choice

by DratTheRat



Series: Friends and Lovers [2]
Category: Dark Tower - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, First Time, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Pining, Requited Love, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 03:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10428420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DratTheRat/pseuds/DratTheRat
Summary: Alain realizes he has barely touched his ale.  He hadn’t cared a bit about the drinks after all - he’d just wanted Cuthbert to come back.  He’d wanted Cuthbert.  And now he was going to get as close to having him as he ever would.  Would she ask them to kiss?  A part of him hopes not.  He might not be able to stop.





	1. Four

Cuthbert is taking a long time bringing the drinks. Alain can see them sitting on the bar, just waiting to be drunk; he licks his lips. To his left, Jamie makes a small, amused noise. Alain doubts Jamie has a view of the bar - he chose the chair that faces the door - so he assumes the snort is directed at him. When he glances over, though, Jamie is staring down at the table, drawing lines in the remnants of the previous round. He looks bored, but Alain is sure he is still watching him, watching the door, listening to the rowdy locals behind him, listening to Cuthbert’s musical laugh rise over the din of the tavern. Jamie smiles his small smile at the sound of it, and Alain looks back toward the bar. He’s safe to stare with Jamie watching his back.

Cuthbert’s hand has moved closer to their stranded drinks, but only because he is using it to brace himself as he leans over the bar to whisper in the barmaid’s ear. Alain can see his thin lips curve into a sweet smile, and he can see the barmaid smile, too - not as sweet (nobody smiles as sweetly as Cuthbert), but warm. It brightens her drawn, exhausted face. Suddenly she is young and pretty, and it only makes Alain love Cuthbert more, that his smile can make other people beautiful. 

Will he bring the drinks over now that he’s affected the transformation? Or is he after sex? Alain tells himself he doesn’t care what Cuthbert does, as long as he gets that one last ale and then a good long sleep in a real bed. A bed! How long has it been? Alain does not think the barmaid is a gilly girl, like the pretty blond that Roland disappeared with what seems like hours ago, but, he supposes, in a town like this, in these desperate times, every woman is probably for sale, and probably some of the men. 

He scans the room for likely candidates, wondering if he would be able to pick one up after Cuthbert goes upstairs with the barmaid. What would Jamie say? He’d keep his mouth shut, Alain imagines; Jamie likes to know more than he says. Does he get off on keeping other people’s secrets? Alain has half a mind to ask, but now Jamie is looking away, over his shoulder. At Cuthbert. Finally coming back to the table with the drinks. And the barmaid. Smiling.

“We thought you might not make it back. Alain has nearly died of thirst.” 

This is the longest string of words Jamie has put together all night. Perhaps in days. Alain shares a smile with Cuthbert. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jamie watching him and forces himself to look away.

“Had I but known!” Cuthbert exclaims. He sloshes ale over his hand in his dramatic presentation of the drinks.

“Careful, there! We’ve waited long enough.” Alain wants to tease, but Cuthbert flops into his chair and sweeps the barmaid onto his lap, and it comes out harsher than he means.

“That’ll be mine. No need to pout.” He sucks his damp and sticky fingers, and Alain turns his attention to his ale. “Had I been sooner we might have been without the beautiful Donna, and that would have been a terrible shame.” His knuckles brush her breast as he reaches for his ale.

Now Alain wants to share a look with Jamie but finds him staring with determination at Beautiful Donna’s breasts. “Terrible,” murmurs Jamie, and Cuthbert laughs. 

Donna is smiling, just like she was at the bar, only now she’s smiling at Alain. “Your friend,” she giggles as Cuthbert squeezes her. She wiggles on his lap. “Your friend,” she starts again, “he thought that I should choose.”

“Did he now?” This is new, and Alain is wary. He reaches out to Cuthbert with the touch and feels his pleasant mood, his arousal (he’s probably hard, with Donna sliding around on his lap), his genuine affection for Jamie and Alain. Filled with something between bemusement and dread, Alain wonders whether Cuthbert really plans to convince her to go to bed with one of them instead of him, and whether he’d be able to. Given the choice, Alain doesn’t think he’d ever opt not to go to bed with Cuthbert, not if it would end Farson’s war or bring back long lost Gilead. He knows it is a selfish choice, but it doesn’t worry him; this is Donna’s choice, and he will never have one like it.

“Of course!” Cuthbert cries, “I’d be no friend at all if I were to monopolize Donna’s company, just because she met me first.”

Alain's heart suddenly aches for Susan Delgado. He thinks of Roland upstairs, fucking some other nameless blonde, pretending, and decides he won’t approach that slender, dark haired farm boy in the corner after all, no matter how this ends. Cuthbert meets his eyes again and seems to realize what he said. He apologizes with an exaggerated grimace and begins again.

“What I mean is: If Donna wants to go to bed with one of us - which she certainly is not obliged to do - she ought to have the full benefit of choice.” He drinks deeply and sucks on her ear.

“And you think it’s possible she might not choose you?”

“It takes all kinds.” 

Alain smirks. “Right.” 

He sips his ale and gives himself a moment to imagine why she might choose someone else. Jamie does not have Cuthbert’s pretty face, but Alain has never really looked at him before - not like that. Now that he does, he realizes he is striking in ways Alain did not expect. Aside from the red stain on his hand, Jamie’s skin is very pale, his face very freckled. Like Roland and Cuthbert he is clean shaven; they all had a shave and a bath on their way into town. His eyes are pale, too, and changeable - gray, green, blue. His fair hair - more ginger than light brown or blond - falls in large, looping curls around the hard, masculine lines of his face. 

Cuthbert catches him looking and grins. Donna shrieks amiably as he bounces her on his knee and twists her round to face Jamie straight on. He kisses her neck, then rests his chin on her shoulder, reaching his fine boned hands out in front of the both of them so she can see him gesticulate.

“Let’s all look at Jamie here,” he says, “Look how tall he is.”

“He’s sitting down,” she observes.

“He is,” Cuthbert admits, “But use your imagination. He’s taller than me, and I can’t begin to compete with those shoulders. I’ve got the narrow down, you know, but not the broad. Jamie’s got both - the very picture of athleticism. He could be a famous statue.”

“He’s practically a statue already,” Alain contributes.

“Yes!” Cuthbert agrees enthusiastically, “A lot of women like the strong silent type.”

“You can’t know a thing about that, Bert,”

“Not personally, no, I don’t have either quality myself. But just look at . . .” he makes a rude gesture in the direction of the ceiling, indicating Roland.

“Point.” Alain concedes.

“So there’s one option. You can ask questions if you want.” He takes a drink, awkwardly, over her shoulder. A few drops of ale drip onto her bosom and trickle down into her cleavage. “Oops,” he says, then unabashedly retrieves them with his finger.

“Cheeky bastard,” she laughs, “I wasn’t sure I’d get a word in edgewise.”

“There, you see, these are worries you won’t have if you choose Jamie.”

“I’m beginning to see his appeal.” She smiles seductively and leans toward Jamie, giving him an excellent view down her dress.

“I cry your pardon, Donna, Bert,” he says at last, “But I had my heart set on a quiet night in a bed on my own. There has been little time for solitude or quiet on our journey, as you may begin to guess.” He smiles his little smile, raises his ale towards Donna - or possibly Cuthbert - and drinks.

Donna pouts a little, “Are you sure? I’m certain that I saw you looking.”

“Appreciating, say true, but I fear that’s all you’ll have from me tonight.”

Alain is not surprised. He has seen Jamie go with women before, but rarely. He wonders again about his theory about other people’s secrets. He doubts Cuthbert is surprised, either.

“Oh my Donna,” Cuthbert cries, “That you have elicited such a speech from our silent friend is a true testament to your charms! Do not begrudge Jamie his quiet night’s sleep - he has helped make your decision easier.”

As Cuthbert rearranges Donna on his lap, Alain examines him in a way he has never tried before. He looks for reasons why somebody might not want to take him to bed. He certainly isn’t the silent type, though Donna clearly doesn’t mind, despite her flirtation with Jamie. And he isn’t broad shouldered, either, though he is taller than Alain. As a boy, Alain had admired his slender figure - slim hips, narrow waist, lanky limbs. He remembers sitting next to him at meals, watching him devour pastry after pastry, envying his ability to consume enormous quantities of savory meat and buttery vegetables and remain svelte and lithe while Alain grew stout on half the portion. 

Alain admires Cuthbert’s body still, but he does not envy him now. Long days of walking and conditioning, eating gamy meat with gathered herbs and berries have chiseled away the paunch of Alain’s youth and awkward teenage years, leaving him leaner than he is stocky. Cuthbert, though, is altogether too thin, more rangy, now, than slender. Pressed against him as she is, Donna can probably feel his ribs all the way through his waistcoat and shirt. His nose is too long, too, and his eyes are too large and too brown, like his hair. By the sun and moon, he’s beautiful! This is absurd.

“Are you going to try to sing my charms as well, Bert, or can we skip to the inevitable conclusion?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Alain! Look, Donna, he has such beautiful blond curls. Mine is so straight I can’t bear to wear it long anymore; it would be forever in my eyes.”

“Cuthbert’s hair is softer.”

“And it’s all over his body! I could never grow a beard like that. And just think of his chest. And his muscles. You’d know you were with a real man.”

Alain blushes and grits his teeth. Jamie is leaning back in his chair, sipping his ale, watching the proceedings with unguarded interest.

“Cuthbert’s stronger than he looks,” Alain says.

“Mayhap, but not as strong as you. And not as empathetic, either. I can talk, but Alain here can feel.” 

This is getting into dangerous territory. Alain wants it to end.

“Cuthbert makes people beautiful by proximity. If you went upstairs with me you’d be disappointed before we got started.”

“Well then,” Donna says, “We’d better bring him with us.”

Alain is stunned. His ears are full of roaring. He loses control of the touch. Behind Jamie, two men bristle with anger, about to come to blows over a card game. The farm boy in the corner is swallowed up by grief for his father, conscripted and lost in the war. Upstairs, Roland and his gilly move together, seeking another release. Jamie is closed off; a gaping hole in the fabric of the touch. Alain’s mind trips over him and stumbles into Donna, aroused and willing and thrumming with the anticipation of having one, possibly even two handsome young strangers she actually likes. She would have bedded any of them, he realizes then; she wants a night to remember when she’s lying, exhausted and alone, after a hard day catering to drunken boors. He is drawn in by Cuthbert’s intense desire to please, mingling now with with the arousal and affection from before. This last is familiar. He takes a deep breath and is back in his chair, watching Cuthbert smile.

“Welcome back.”

“You want us both,” Alain says to Donna at last. It is not a question.

“It seemed impossible to choose,” she hedges, “but I’d understand if that’s,” she pauses, “just not done.”

“Jamie won’t tell Roland, will you?” Cuthbert smiles sweetly. 

Jamie smiles back and shakes his head. 

“You see?” Cuthbert continues, kissing up her neck, “I certainly don’t mind.”

“And you?” Donna reaches over toward Alain.

Alain takes her hand and nods. “Alright.”

Suddenly, Donna is standing, pulling Alain to his feet. Cuthbert laughs his musical laugh and drains the last of his ale. Alain realizes he has barely touched his. He hadn’t cared a bit about the drinks after all - he’d just wanted Cuthbert to come back. He’d wanted Cuthbert. And now he was going to get as close to having him as he ever would. Would she ask them to kiss? A part of him hopes not. He might not be able to stop.

Jamie has finished his own ale and Cuthbert, upon standing, has given him Alain’s. With her free hand, Donna offers him a key. “Room three, when you’re ready. In the back. Quiet.”

Jamie nods and smiles. Donna leads them up the stairs.


	2. Three

In the upstairs hall, Donna is still leading Alain by the hand. He turns to look at Cuthbert, following silently behind, grinning. They’re really going to do this.

Donna pulls him into a room, and Cuthbert slips in after them and stands beside him in the dark. Donna locks the door with a key, lights a candle in a lantern, sets it on a small table in front of a mirror. They stare at each other in silence.

Cuthbert laughs. “Where has our bravado gone?!” he cries. He steps toward Donna and caresses her face, looks into her eyes. “What would you like?”

Alain has never seen Cuthbert with a woman before, not like he’s about to. He’s sure now Donna isn’t doing this for money, doesn’t go to bed with every man who comes to town, but he imagines Cuthbert would be - and had been - much the same with the most worldly whore in Gilead. So sweet with his ‘what would you like.’

Donna looks down at Cuthbert’s chest and reaches out to hook a finger in the open neck of his shirt. “I’d like,” she murmurs, then laughs at herself.

Cuthbert raises his eyebrows, rubs his thumb along her jaw. “Yes?”

She takes a deep breath and looks him in the eye. “I’d like to suck you while he takes me from behind.”

“Lovely,” Cuthbert says and kisses her. He’s still holding her head, his fine fingers curled gently around the back of her jaw. He slides his other hand around her waist and opens his mouth. It looks just as sweet as his smile. 

Then she begins to unfasten his waistcoat. Cuthbert pulls out of the kiss and laughs breathily then starts in on the laces on her bodice. “Don’t fall behind, Alain,” he grins, “You heard the lady.”

By the time Alain takes the three steps over to meet them, Donna’s bodice is undone, her breasts bobbing under her thin, white blouse. Cuthbert’s waistcoat is on the floor, and his suspenders hang loosely from the waistband of his trousers. He steps back to unbuckle his guns, then holds out his hand for Alain’s.

Alain is watching Cuthbert place their guns on either side of the bed when Donna scrapes her fingers through his beard and pulls him in for a kiss. Her lips are soft, and her tongue is warm. He wonders if she tastes a little like Cuthbert.

She shucks off his jacket and pulls his shirt over his head, rubbing her palms across the hair on his chest. He hopes he lives up to Cuthbert’s description. He must be close enough, because she’s kissing him again as he tugs off her blouse and cups her breasts gently, running his thumbs across her nipples. She moans and unfastens her skirt, which falls to the floor with a thud. 

“Mmmmm,” sighs Cuthbert. Alain turns and sees him laid out on the bed, completely nude.

Alain has seen Cuthbert naked before, of course he has. They were raised together, trained together, lived together on the road, bathed together in frigid streams. He knows the shape of his body, the lines of his scars. He’s even seen him hard before. But, oh, is this different.

Cuthbert knows he is attractive, and his confidence in his body, in his general charm, is more than enough to make up for anything the past few years of hard living have stripped away. He’s thinner than he should be, yes; Alain feels like he can see every one of his bones. But there is muscle there, too, sinewy and well honed. His chest is smooth. Below his belly button, a thin trail of dark hair leads down to his heavy cock, partially hidden in one fine boned fist. He strokes his hard cock slowly, then slides his hand down to fondle his balls. It’s like an anatomy lesson; Alain can see exactly how he’s put together. He’s on display for Donna, but Alain is standing right next to her, close enough to pretend that that inviting smile is for him.

The moment passes as Donna steps out of the circle of her fallen skirt and sits on the edge of the bed, blocking Alain’s view of Cuthbert’s cock. She leans down until her nipples brush against his chest and kisses him softly but open mouthed. His hands slide up and down her back and he lets out a soft “Oh.” She licks his lips and pulls back slightly. They are both smiling.

Cuthbert turns his smile toward Alain. This is not the sweet smile that makes people beautiful and breaks Alain’s heart. This smile is full of mischief, and Alain goes giddy with arousal. He gives in and touches himself - as Cuthbert had been doing - and Cuthbert nods and grins approval before slinking off the bed to unbuckle Donna’s shoes. 

She giggles and leans over him, running her hands through his soft hair and swinging her breasts in his face. Finished with her shoes, he licks one dangling breast then pulls apart her thighs and thrusts his face between them. Alain’s gasp is covered up by Donna’s shriek as she falls back on the bed and flails for a moment until Cuthbert secures her legs on top of his shoulders. He pulls back a little. “Alright?”

Donna grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and slams it into his side. A few tiny feathers float into the air. “Don’t you dare stop,” she says.

Cuthbert takes the pillow and shoves it under his knees, then returns to Donna’s clit with single minded passion.

Alain stares down at the pillow. It occurs to him suddenly that he and Cuthbert are going to be expected to sleep together in this bed after they’re done. His lust addled mind remembers Cuthbert laying out their guns on either side of the bed, realizes he’d remained there to undress so that he could keep them within reach. A gunslinger’s domesticity? His love for Cuthbert swells, but his erection flags at the chilly thought of the inevitably awkward aftermath once they are left alone.

Donna notices and teases him, misunderstanding, “Another thing that’s just not done?” She fists her hand in Cuthbert’s hair. He moans, and she does too. 

Alain grimaces. He does not want her - or, dare he think it, Cuthbert - to believe he is offended, though he has never performed this act himself. He’s enjoyed his share of women, but he’s never had a lover he cared for enough to try something so intimate. He doubts Roland has ever done it either, for all his love he had for Susan. Roland holds the customs of Gilead as law. He is intent on maintaining this old order among the four of them, even now that Gilead has fallen and the world has moved on. In all likelihood, he considers performing oral sex demeaning. It is clear to Alain, and almost certainly to Jamie, that Cuthbert has little respect for many of the traditions that Roland holds so dear. He plays along out of love for Roland, even out of duty - Cuthbert does believe in some of Gilead’s laws, though he does not often share which ones, only chafing directly against Roland when he strongly disagrees. 

Cuthbert moans again, jolting Alain from his reverie and forcing him to speak. “No, say true, I cannot begrudge my dear friend something he so clearly loves. Yet, I am uncertain what to do with myself. I . . . we have not . . .” He trails off.

Cuthbert pulls his head up. His chin is shiny with her sex; his lips are red and parted. He sucks the bottom one up under his teeth and looks at Alain with wide, concerned eyes. He takes so many things too far. Is this the moment he will choose to be contrite? Alain can’t bear the thought. He wants this.

He steps forward and places his sturdy hand on Cuthbert’s slender neck, allowing himself to revel in the speed of his pulse, the sweat of his arousal, the soft hairs at the nape. It’s tender and horribly intimate. Alain meant to reassure, but he’s suddenly all too aware of his own cock hardening again in close proximity to Cuthbert’s face, though Cuthbert is not looking at it. His deep brown eyes stare up into Alain’s blue ones. This is ridiculous. He shoves Cuthbert’s face back toward Donna’s pussy, looks her in the eye, and shrugs. 

Alain takes a page out of Cuthbert’s book. “What would you like? In the meantime.”

She keens and reaches for him, “I want to touch you. In a minute we’ll do what I said before. Oh! Yes!” Her hips jerk and Cuthbert cradles her ass, pressing her closer to his mouth, buying his long nose in her pubic hair as she comes grasping Alain’s cock. He thrusts a couple of times in sympathy, then climbs onto the bed and leans down to kiss her as she rides through the last involuntary twitches of her orgasm.

Alain presses his hard cock against her side and slides his hand down her thigh until it meets Cuthbert’s. To his surprise, Cuthbert just holds it for a minute, winding his delicate fingers through Alain’s stout ones, before he guides it to Donna’s dripping pussy and lets go, drawing away and standing.

She is so wet. Cuthbert has made her so ready for him. His cock hardens further. He kisses her once more, then props himself up on his other arm to gauge her reaction as he slides a finger inside. She nods, so he kisses her again and adds another, pushing deep inside and twisting until her eyes widen and she moans. “Yes,” she says, “ like that.” And then she laughs. Alain pulls back.

“He wiped his face on the pillowcase,” she explains.

“Of course he did.” Alain bends his neck to look.

“That’ll be mine,” Cuthbert says, and tosses the pillow toward the far side of the bed where his guns and, presumably, his clothes and boots are hiding. He steps toward the bed, but Donna stops him.

“Stay put,” she says, “I’m ready.”

He freezes dramatically mid step, making her laugh, easing the tension as she and Alain maneuver awkwardly around on the bed until she is on her hands and knees, facing off the edge, with Alain behind her, running his hands along her ass and thighs.

Then she beckons, and Cuthbert breaks his pose and stands in front of her, his cock, not quite erect, ever so close to her mouth. He’s more obviously nervous than Alain thinks he has ever seen him in his adult life, and Alain can’t help but wonder what possessed him to allow this to happen when he could have had her all to himself. Cuthbert reaches out to touch her cheek, and his sweet smile is back as he looks down into her eyes. Alain spreads her thighs just far enough apart, lines up his cock, and presses inside. Cuthbert’s eyes snap up to meet his; Alain moans deeply.

“Yes,” hisses Donna. She stretches out to touch Cuthbert’s cock with her nose, lick it with her tongue. He takes it in hand to help her, and she pulls the tip into her mouth. He hardens completely and his eyes fall shut.

Alain slides slowly in and out, feeling the hot wetness of her insides stroke against his cock as he watches ecstasy sweep over Cuthbert’s face. He has to make this last. 

Cuthbert keeps making little sounds of encouragement, keeps stroking his free hand across Donna’s jaw or through her hair while his other holds the base of his cock. Alain can see the muscles ripple in his stomach as he resists thrusting, can see in his face how the strain of his restraint increases his pleasure. Donna is moaning around his cock, pushing herself harder onto Alain. She pulls back for a moment. “Faster!”

Alain obliges, thrusting faster, harder, deeper. Donna’s elbows buckle and she is forced to leave off Cuthbert’s cock, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Instead he sinks again to the floor and kisses her deeply on the mouth, sliding his hands beneath her to fondle her breasts. 

He breaks the kiss and sits back on his haunches, looking up at Alain. He seems to consider something for a moment, then brings his right hand up to his mouth and sucks two fingers in deep, still meeting Alain’s eyes. Alain has to concentrate desperately not to falter in his thrusts, but then Cuthbert looks away and grins at Donna, drawing his fingers out, dripping with saliva. He leans forward and reaches under her, running his hand along her stomach to her clit.

“I can feel you inside of her,” he says.

“Oh,” Alain and Donna say at once. 

Alain can feel him too, he thinks, rubbing at her clit as he thrusts harder and harder and Donna starts to scream. Then he can feel him for certain as his fingers reach that final inch to trace along the edge of her entrance and caress his rock hard cock. Does Donna know that he is touching him, too? He can’t see Cuthbert’s face.

Donna screams one final, “Yes!” and then says, “Kiss me, Cuthbert.” The fingers give Alain a final squeeze, and he comes hard as Cuthbert withdraws to kiss Donna messily on the lips. 

Alain pulls out and lies beside her. She stops kissing Cuthbert and kisses him instead. “Wonderful.” She cards her hand through his chest hair again, then flops onto her back. 

Upside down, they both look up at Cuthbert. “Come up here and fuck me ‘till you come,” says Donna.

Cuthbert grins. He stands, and for a moment Alain is looking up at his cock. Then he slips around the bed and is kneeling between Donna’s legs, his knee pressing into Alain’s thigh. He pulls Donna’s legs up over his shoulders and bends her in half, his right hand sneaking under Alain’s shoulder. “Alright?”

“Yes.”

He thrusts down inside her and bounces up and down until she wails and scratches his back. Then he lets himself come - his face going slack and his dark eyes rolling back before he shuts them and rests his forehead on her shoulder. Donna runs her fingers through his sweaty hair, making it stick up. His breathing slows, and he whispers, “Thank you.”

What do they do now? Donna yawns widely and gives Cuthbert a shove. He can’t roll off without landing on top of Alain or falling off the bed, so he draws back up to his knees. He smiles goofily, then flops down on the pillow he wiped his mouth on earlier, far enough away to give Alain and Donna room to move around.

They both sit up, and she gives him a peck of a kiss and places her hand over his cock, half hard from watching Cuthbert take his pleasure. It twitches a little but does not grow fully erect. She kisses him again on the cheek. She crawls over to Cuthbert and kisses him too, chastely. Then she shimmies off the bed and begins to dress.


	3. Two

Alain sees Donna to the door and locks it when she goes. He wouldn’t like Roland to walk in and disapprove. He takes a deep breath and turns around.

Still lying on his soiled pillow on the far side of the bed, Cuthbert seems very far away. He isn’t looking at Alain now; he is staring straight ahead, fingers folded across his hollow belly, knees up, blocking Alain’s view of his spent cock. This is private Cuthbert, no longer on display. Still naked, though. And somehow Alain is going to have to make himself go back over there and get into bed with him.

There is a pitcher of water and a glass next to the little lantern on the table by the mirror. Alain pours himself a glass of water and drinks it, looking at himself in the mirror for the first time. His yellow hair glows warm in the candlelight. The muscles in his strong arms flex as he raises the glass to his lips. A few drops of water drip into his freshly trimmed beard. He sets the glass down on the table and leans toward his reflection, staring into his own blue eyes - not piercing like Roland’s, but clear like a deep lake or a wide open sky. That woman, Donna, had liked him well enough - not as well as she had liked Cuthbert, but that had been clear from the start. Cuthbert had touched his cock - just barely - and they each found their release right next to each other. This had been a good night. He’s not going to ruin it now.

He pours another glass of water, picks up the lantern, and walks back over to the bed. “Water?”

“Thank you, yes.” Cuthbert pulls himself up to lean against the headboard, his pillow behind his back. He looks fleetingly at Alain, takes the glass, and drinks.

“Would you like me to get dressed?”

“Alain,” he smiles up at him, “We have a real bed. Indulge yourself. This is the only night in current reckoning that we won’t have to sleep in our clothes.”

Alain smiles back. “Alright.” He sets the lantern on the bedside table next to his guns and tries to pull back the blankets but Cuthbert is in the way. He tugs the blanket against his weight, and Cuthbert grins at him obnoxiously. This feels normal, like they’re boys again, not two lost men who just shared a woman they’d just barely met. “Move!”

“Make me.”

“I could.”

“Maybe.”

Alain knows he outweighs Cuthbert and he certainly has more brute strength, but Cuthbert is flexible and quick, and he’s beaten him in wrestling matches before, however rarely. After the strangeness of the evening and the awkwardness of the past few minutes, Alain embraces the invitation to childish one upmanship. “You asked for it!”

“I did, didn’t I,” says Cuthbert, oddly.

Alain climbs onto the bed and attempts to bodily roll his rival off the other side. Cuthbert resists but does not try to gain the upper hand until Alain is kneeling over him, ready to flip him over and toss him off the bed. Cuthbert is a sneaky, unpredictable wrestler, but for the moment Alain has him pinned. “Get up now of your own accord, or I’ll dump you on the floor.”

“You won’t.”

“It’ll hurt.”

“I imagine it will.”

“I’d rather not hurt you.”

“I can take it.” Cuthbert kisses him.

Alain springs off the bed and backs away to the wall. Cuthbert’s thin lips twist into a rueful smile. Slowly, he gets off the bed, turns down the covers, and lies down under them. “I cry your pardon,” he says to the ceiling, “I concede.”

“What? Because you were fighting dirty?”

“I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t.”

“No.”

“You kissed me so I’d let you up. You’re always taking things too far.”

“Drop it, Alain. I cried your pardon. Come to bed.” He laughs a little, darkly, and closes his eyes.

Alain is at a loss. This was all a terrible mistake. He thinks back to Cuthbert smiling at him in the tavern downstairs, how he’d felt his affection and desire through the touch, how it had grounded him. He sits on his side of the bed, facing away from Cuthbert, blows out the lantern, and reaches out, gently, with the touch. He feels a spear of pain before he is shut out. It’s like falling into a hole.

“Not tonight, love,” Cuthbert sneers, “I have a headache.”

“Bert,” Alain starts, “Cuthbert?”

No answer. 

“You can tell when I am touching you?”

“I should not let you do it so often. I let myself get carried away.” 

“Can you control what I . . . what I see?” Alain turns toward Cuthbert and finds him looking at him through the almost darkness. The moon still makes it easy to see.

“A little,” he replies, “I always trusted you not to dig deep.”

Alain nods. “I cry your pardon. I never meant to violate you. Sometimes it’s difficult to control. And when it’s not . . . you are a comfort to me.”

“There was no violation. I could have kept you out. I can always feel you touch me - you practiced on me so much for so long - I doubt that other people can, or that they can hide it if they do feel you there. And I wanted you.”

“You wanted me to touch you?”

“Yes,” he admits, “but that is not what I said. I understand the difference between wanting and doing. I understand the rules. Some of them are not to be flouted.”

Alain’s heart races. He already knows how Cuthbert hides, how he misrepresents himself, lets Roland think he is a fool. He has seen him misdirect his enemies, trick clever men into telling him secrets, seduce women - by showing them only the parts of himself that he wanted them to see. And he’s done the same thing to Alain - he’s let him see everything but this. He’d never once guessed that something was missing. It was a deception so complete that tonight, when his flirtation should have been obvious, Alain had not been able to believe. 

“You said that you weren’t fighting dirty,” he begins again.

“I wasn’t fighting,” Cuthbert says.

“I didn’t understand,” Alain admits, “You’ve hidden from me too well.”

“Oh.”

“Yes,” Alain agrees, and he climbs slowly over Cuthbert again, pushing the covers back. Cuthbert makes no move to stop him, not even when Alain straddles him and pins him down again, restraining his arms and legs. “Shall we try again?”

Cuthbert nods. “You said you’d rather not hurt me.”

“I’d rather not hurt you,” Alain whispers, bending close.

“I can take it,” Cuthbert says quietly but with emphasis, and kisses him again. 

This time, Alain is ready. He responds slowly, enjoying the way their lips fit together, move against each other, before he reaches his tongue out to run it along Cuthbert’s bottom lip. Cuthbert opens his mouth immediately and moans as Alain’s tongue slides across his teeth instead. He touches his tongue to Alain’s and chases it back into his mouth. 

They kiss until Cuthbert struggles to move his hands. Alain removes first one hand, then the other from Cuthbert’s wrists. Cuthbert lets out a breath Alain hadn’t realized he was holding and runs his fingers up Alain’s hairy chest. “I dislike being held down,” he admits.

“Idiot.” Alain shifts and frees Cuthbert’s legs as well. 

“Sometimes.” He wraps his legs around Alain’s back and pulls him down until their hard cocks press together. He takes hold of Alain’s face with both hands and kisses him again, deep and needy. It’s definitely better when he can use his arms and legs.

They rut against each other, trading kisses, stroking each other’s cocks, until Alain wants desperately to come. He breaks the kiss and sits back on his knees to settle down. They may never do this again. It can’t be over yet. He looks down at Cuthbert, lying in the moonlight. “You’re beautiful,” he says.

“I know,” Cuthbert smirks, “You tell me all the time.” He taps his head.

Alain is mortified; he’s mastered many aspects of the touch, but not, apparently, where Cuthbert is concerned.

“I like it,” Cuthbert says. He sits up and kisses Alain softly. Then he leans off the side of the bed and picks up his trousers. He fumbles in the pocket, then drops them on the floor and presses something into Alain’s hand.

“What’s this?”

“Bath oil, I think.”

“From your bath? This morning?” 

Cuthbert nods but does not look at him. Alain can’t tell for certain in the moonlight, but he thinks he is blushing.

“You planned this?”

“I hoped it.”

“You hoped you’d find a woman willing to give us an excuse to go to bed together.”

“Something like that.”

“You manipulative bastard. What did you tell her at the bar?”

“I told her she was pretty. I asked if she would meet my friends. I asked if she was lonely. I told her we were lonely, too.”

Alain takes his chin between his finger and thumb, and pulls him in for a kiss. They kiss until they are panting, then Cuthbert leans back and spreads his legs, inviting.

Alain runs a hand down Cuthbert’s inner thigh. “Have you done this before?”

“Well, not with a man.”

“I didn’t mean just sex.” He traces a finger toward Cuthbert’s puckered hole.

“Neither did I.”

“You’ve done this,” he finally presses his finger to the opening - Cuthbert gasps - “with a woman.”

“That comely widow, you remember . . .” 

Alain nods. “The rest of us slept in her barn.”

“She had a longstick. I asked if I could watch her use it, and she said she would do that if she could put it in me afterwards.”

“And you agreed.”

“Of course I did. I was curious. And I wanted her. She seemed to know what she was doing. Give me that.”

Cuthbert snatches the oil, pops it open, and drizzles some over his fingers. Alain is entranced by the sight and the story.

“I was achingly hard, and practically salivating, watching her drill that thing into herself. I could see she was so wet. Then she told me to lie back, and she got some oil from her kitchen and she used it to open me up, like this.” He swirls the oil around his hole, then slides one finger in, then two. He moves them in and out and round and round. “And then she fucked me with her longstick for a while, and then she got on top of me and rode me hard until she came, then put it back inside me and fucked me until I did. Just from that. Your turn.” He hands the oil back. “You’ve done this before?”

Alain hates that he has. He only did because he wanted Cuthbert. “Yes.”

Cuthbert nods. “I suppose that’s good. That you know how to do it.”

“I won’t anymore. I won’t with women either, not unless it’s like tonight.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. We might not have another chance like this.”

“We will. We’ll make it so.”

Cuthbert says, “Alright,” and Alain has the heart stopping impression that he might be agreeing to more than just a second time. He might be agreeing not to have any more women himself. Cuthbert often speaks in riddles, leaves his words open to more than one meaning. It’s how he misdirects, how he placates Roland. He’s a master of evasion but knows he is easy to catch in an outright lie. Alain wants to press but doesn’t; he chooses the interpretation that suits him best, like Cuthbert wants, and smiles. Cuthbert smiles, too. He likes to make people happy.

His smile widens when Alain pours oil over his hand, and he cants his hips and spreads his legs further to give him better access. Cuthbert had used two fingers, so Alain starts with two as well. His fingers are thicker than Cuthbert’s, and he can feel them stretching him, can feel the muscles begin to relax.

Cuthbert’s smile goes slack, his long eyelashes flutter, and his head falls back in obvious pleasure. Alain moves his fingers slowly until he finds the telltale bump and Cuthbert gasps, “Yes, there.”

He moves his fingers in and out, eventually adding a third, and Cuthbert keens and reaches for his cock. Alain leans forward and licks the tip and Cuthbert’s eyes fly open.

“For next time,” Alain promises, “in case we’re not prepared for this.”

Cuthbert nods shakily and coaxes Alain up for a kiss. His fingers slip free, and Cuthbert groans. “Next time, I’ll lie on top of you and we can suck each other’s.”

“I never imagined that you’d want this.”

“I’m sure you imagined.”

“In all my fantasies, you never wanted me inside you.”

Cuthbert laughs softly, his breath tickling Alain’s lips. “Mayhap I want you to do all the work.”

That sounds about right. “I should have thought of that,” teases Alain.

“I don’t want to have to concentrate on anything but how you feel inside me.” His eyes are locked on Alain’s now. Alain thinks he might drown in their darkness.

Alain feels Cuthbert fumble in the bedclothes and hears him pop the top of his little bottle. He feels Cuthbert’s calloused hand, slick with oil, wrap around his weeping cock. Cuthbert raises his eyebrows. Is that a challenge?

Alain drifts a kiss across his lips and sits back on his knees. Cuthbert pulls his own knees back, opening himself impossibly further. His eyebrows raise a fraction more. Alain lets out a deep breath, guides his cock to Cuthbert’s hole, and slowly pushes in.

It’s better than anything he’s ever done or imagined. He slides deeper, adjusting just slightly, until Cuthbert cries, “Oh! Yes! Alain!” He lets his legs rest on Alain’s shoulders and starts running his fingers along Alain’s sides. They slide onto his back then dip down to grab his ass. “More.”

Alain begins to thrust in earnest, looking in Cuthbert’s eyes - he’s struggling to keep them open - and listening to the wonderful little sounds that he makes.

Cuthbert’s hands slide back to his front, up Alain’s chest to his face, tugging softly as though he wants to kiss him. Alain wants to try, so he bends down, moaning in aroused amazement as Cuthbert folds easily in half and flashes a satisfied grin. They kiss, their tongues meeting outside their mouths, then their lips coming together without any tongue at all. 

“More,” Cuthbert says again, and he caresses Alain’s arm, where his muscles are straining to support his weight, and wraps his fingers around his wrist, gently, letting his knuckles come to rest on the back of Alain’s hand. 

“Are you certain?” Alain asks, “I won’t have much control.”

“Yes.”

Alain concentrates on the contact between their hands and reaches out with the touch. Physical contact is always an amplifier, and they are touching so intimately now. The connection is almost overwhelming. He feels Cuthbert’s pleasure, and his longing, and his love. He feels his fear, not of Alain but of the future, his desperateness for Roland’s good will, his dread of his likely imminent death. He feels his pain - Alain is hurting him a little - and feels how he doesn’t care, though his pleasure is not increased by it. He feels how much he likes the stretch in his muscles, though, from how he’s bent in half, so he pushes his legs further over his head and Cuthbert moans, “Alain.”

Alain wants to reciprocate; his addled mind sends feelings back through the touch, and he hopes he manages to pass on his love and his pleasure, at least. He holds the connection open and begins to thrust again. He can exert so much downward force with Cuthbert folded back like this. He pounds into him, hard, and Cuthbert’s left hand tightens on his wrist. His right clutches fleetingly at Alain’s shoulder before shooting back behind him to brace against the headboard. He’s murmuring gibberish now, awash in their shared pleasure. Are they so connected now that Alain’s own orgasm is sure to set Cuthbert’s off? Alain hopes so, because he cannot resist any longer. They come together, hard and messy, and Alain collapses.

Cuthbert carefully maneuvers his legs down around Alain’s arms until he can clasp them together behind his back, and his hand - the one that had braced them through the final, forceful stages of their sex, slips across his shoulder and into his hair.

The touch still radiates between them, erratically, and Alain catches jarring glimpses of Cuthbert’s racing thoughts until he can muster the force of will to terminate the link. “Better?”

“Better than anything in a long time.” Cuthbert twitches as Alain’s softening cock slides unwillingly but inevitably out of his ass. 

Alain kisses Cuthbert on the forehead and rolls back to his side of the bed. He wipes their bellies clean with his own pillowcase, and Cuthbert chuckles softly. “That’ll be yours, then?”

Alain fluffs the pillow and places it sticky side down. He lies on his back and reaches his hand toward Cuthbert, who takes it, lacing their fingers together. They lie for a moment in silence.

Eventually, Alain speaks. “You belong to Roland.”

It cannot be what Cuthbert wants to hear, but he answers easily, without compunction, “And so do you, and Jamie.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Perhaps.” Cuthbert lets go of his hand and turns away, rolling onto his side.

Alain’s heart aches. He takes a deep breath, turns toward Cuthbert’s back, and continues. “I know you do not hold by all the rules of Gilead, and, for all that I have touched your mind, I cannot often tell which customs you hold dear. But your . . . devotion to Roland as your dinh is very, very clear.”

“My devotion to my dinh might not be so were he not Roland.”

“Yes, say true. You love him.”

“And do you not?”

“I do, but . . . not so deeply as you do, I think.”

Cuthbert huffs and says, again, “Perhaps.”

There is silence for a moment, then Cuthbert heaves a sigh and reaches one hand back around his slender waist, wiggling the fingers. Alain takes it.

“I do not love you as I love Roland. You are different loves for me. I will die for him, and soon, I reckon, but he will never have my body in this way, nor the whole of my heart. I would lose myself, I think, if he held any more of my soul.”

“I understand.” And Alain does. He feels something similar for Roland, though his love is not so deep. He has already lost so much of himself in Cuthbert, instead. That happened long before tonight.

“Yes,” Cuthbert agrees. He pulls at Alain’s hand, leading it across his chest, to rest between his heart and his chin. Alain scoots closer, wrapping himself around Cuthbert’s bony back. He can feel Cuthbert's jaw brush against his fingers when he speaks. “Most of me belongs to Roland. He has my guns; he has so much of my soul. I cede to you whatever there is left.”

Alain places a kiss at the bottom of his neck. “I cherish it.” Cuthbert squeezes his hand, tucked tightly against his chest, under his chin. With the edges of his fingers, Alain thinks he can feel him smile.


End file.
